The Return of Picasso Klink
by Me
Summary: Oh no, Klink's painting again! But Hogan and his men use it & an elderly lady (really Newkirk) who pretends to want to marry Klink to help complete a mission


Hearing from an elderly church friend about a woman who made quilts w/codes in them for the  
  
Underground Railroad inspired this idea of romance and painting. I wrote it about 3 years ago so  
  
maybe it's not as good as more recent stories, but the site with several of mine ont hat weren't  
  
here is defunct now. Hope you can read this okay as it's an old document and it wasn't saving  
  
okay in any other way.  
  
THE RETURN OF PICASSO KLINK  
  
Robert Hogan, senior POW of Stalag 13, grumbled slightly as he jogged into Kommandant  
  
Klink's office. It wasn't that LeBeau couldn't meet the newest contact in Hammelburg himself,  
  
but he always liked to handle the newcomers himself, to feel things out and make sure the person  
  
wasn't a spy. Hogan, after all, ran a top secret rescue and sabotage mission from inside the  
  
German POW camp.  
  
"Kommandant wanted to see me," Hogan wondered, asking the immensely rotund sergeant of  
  
the guard.  
  
Schultz nodded. "Ja, he is in there." Hogan threw Schultz a curious glance as the guard  
  
snickered while opening the door.  
  
The American soon understood the reason for the giggles. Oh no, thought Hogan, he's  
  
painting again. Will the art world survive? Hogan quickly grabbed the paintbrush from Klink's  
  
hand. "Sir, really, you shouldn't...an officer of your caliber shouldn't be associated with the dregs  
  
of the art world."  
  
Klink appeared slightly shocked. "The dregs? Hogan, you yourself said I had a gift. And  
  
don't you remember what those dealers paid for my artwork? For those trees swaying in the  
  
breeze?"  
  
Hogan barely resisted a chuckle. The "art dealers" Klink spoke of were actually Underground  
  
agents receiving maps covertly hidden behind Klink's artwork. And he'd merely encouraged  
  
Klink to paint because he had no other way to get the maps to his contact at the Hammelburg art  
  
museum. Now, without that need, Klink forcing his painting on Hogan and his men might mean  
  
he'd be distracting them from something important.  
  
To the Kommandant, Hogan explained it this way. "Sir, what you did was impressionist in the  
  
extreme. The old Nazi guard isn't going to go for impressionism, and neither should a great mind  
  
like you."  
  
Klink nodded as he turned the picture to face Hogan. "Here is where we Germans prove our  
  
superior thinking, I am one step ahead of you." Hogan gasped as he glanced at the picture - it  
  
was a very non-descript building with a Nazi flag on top.  
  
Hogan nodded. "Nice picture of the motor pool," he remarked.  
  
"It's the cooler, Hogan," Klink exclaimed, shaking a fist.  
  
"I knew that, I'm just kidding around." He studied the picture for a moment, convinced his  
  
oldest nephew could do better than this - and the lad was six. He allowed himself to grin, and  
  
remarked "I've gotta hand it to you, you have...I just can't describe it."  
  
Klink agreed with Hogan, but took it in a vastly different way. "I know - the lady at the art  
  
museum told me when I tried to take more paintings in that she felt my time had passed. I asked  
  
her what she felt my best talent would be, and she suggested still life." He hummed a moment,  
  
then inquired as to what Hogan thought would be a good portrait to draw. "I want to practice so  
  
I can give General Burkhalter one for his birthday."  
  
Hogan smiled and said truthfully "I'd love to see the look on his face when you give him a  
  
portrait of himself." Maybe this will keep him from bugging us for a while, if I encourage this, he  
  
told himself. Plus, I would like to see the general's face...how badly will Klink paint him, I  
  
wonder.  
  
Klink was excited. "I'm glad you agree, Hogan, that is just what the curator said."  
  
He was shocked. "She did?"  
  
"Yes, although she suggested I start doing portraits in the medical field. She told me if I  
  
thought I could paint portraits for a living I should see a psychiatrist."  
  
With a slight wag of his head, Hogan remarked "can't argue with her there."  
  
"So, what do you think? What would you suggest?"  
  
"I would say get about ten guards together, the tower guards would be good. Have all sit at  
  
your desk, looking every direction, and do from the chest up. Paint the tower around them, and  
  
it'll be a sign of your great and mighty power to seal this camp shut - eyes in every direction."  
  
Klink grinned broadly for a moment, the grin fleeing quickly. "Yes, yes, an excellent symbol  
  
of...Hogan, I am not taking guards out of the guard towers, you would use that diversion to  
  
escape!"  
  
The American snickered. Of course, there was a no escape rule among the prisoners, so the  
  
inept Klink could be kept in command. Another kommandant might easily find their intricate  
  
tunnel system or some other evidence of their activities. However, he couldn't let Klink know  
  
there was a no-escape rule, so he enjoyed planting little ideas like this in Klink's head, making him  
  
think they would leave if he let his guard down. "It was worth a try."  
  
"Hmmpf, you are usually better at your ploys. Take the guards out of the guard towers,  
  
indeed." He removed his smock and walked behind his desk. He sat a dried picture on it and  
  
requested that Hogan look at it.  
  
The picture was of a long rectangle with strange markings around the edges which appeared to  
  
be smudges of light blue and brown mixed together. Something that looked vaguely like a chair  
  
sat in the middle of the brown rectangle. "Like it, it's my desk."  
  
"Didn't anyone ever teach you to color between the lines?"  
  
"I am afraid I don't understand."  
  
Hogan pointed out the splotches of light blue and brown mixed together. "Look, you've got  
  
part of the wall mingled in with part of the desk. That's not the way people see things."  
  
"But it shows that the desk is part of the office, it all blends together."  
  
"Kommandant..." Hogan thought about the time - LeBeau would probably be back pretty  
  
soon. How would he get away quickly so he could find out what the mission was? Trying to  
  
teach Klink how to paint would take hours, if not days. "Look, the way most great portrait  
  
painters do it is to make an outline - do an outline of the desk, then paint inside that. Then do an  
  
outline of the outside, and paint outside that." He pointed to the picture of Hitler. "Why not  
  
practice on old nose hair?"  
  
"Hogan, stop calling our fuhrer nose hair.'"  
  
"Hey, I've given you two good ideas for practicing, and you haven't accepted them," the  
  
American pretended to complain.  
  
"Oh, very well then, I will simply come up with ideas without your advice. Dismissed!" Klink  
  
went back to painting as Hogan left.  
  
Arriving back at barracks 2, Hogan wondered if LeBeau was back yet. "Not yet," British  
  
corporal Peter Newkirk remarked. "What did Klink want?"  
  
"Oh, the usual bragging." He turned to James Kinchloe, who was something of a supply  
  
sergeant for the group. "We got any connect-the-dots books?"  
  
While the other POWs were normally accustomed to Hogan's odd ideas, this one caught all -  
  
even the normally stoic Kinch - by surprise, and all giggled. Another black sergeant, Richard  
  
Baker, inquired "what would you need one of those for?"  
  
The head POW explained "Klink's trying to paint again - I thought we'd give him something  
  
easy to start."  
  
" Fraid not," Kinch told him.  
  
"That's okay." They heard a small tap under their floor, and lifted the bunk to reveal LeBeau.   
  
The French corporal ascended the stairs, stepped out of the bunk, and allowed the board to lower  
  
itself into a regular bunk again. "Hey, LeBeau, how'd it go?"  
  
"Well, it took a little while, she's really old and a little hard of hearing."  
  
The other men laughed. "Oh, sure," teased Newkirk, "we've all heard that before - all told the  
  
same lie, too, I'm sure."  
  
"Did you get her phone number," Kinch chided further.  
  
The Frenchman protested. "Come on, I am serious this time." When that didn't convince  
  
them, he remarked "besides, I am French, if she were really good looking I'd have been gone a lot  
  
longer."  
  
"He has a point," noted Andrew Carter, another American.  
  
"Plus, it's strange e doesn't ave any lipstick on im," stated the Englishman.  
  
"Right. Anyway, she is coming to Stalag 13 with some very important information." LeBeau  
  
continued. "She travels to different spots where it is needed, and gives information sewn into  
  
quilts in really small lettering." He thought a moment. "Code name Madame DeFarge."  
  
"She seem reliable?"  
  
"Oui. She is hardly ever noticed by anyone, let alone Gestapo; they merely think she is just a  
  
darling old widow selling quilts to supplement her income. Of course that is when she is using her  
  
real name; Maria Eckert is just one of her names, and what she goes by when she's visiting  
  
relatives' here."  
  
Hogan nodded. "Okay, now we just have to think of a way to get her into camp." He thought  
  
for a second, then snapped his fingers. "I've got it."  
  
"How we gonna do it, Colonel," wondered Newkirk.  
  
Kommandant Klink is about to have the chance for a large inheritance."  
  
That night, Hogan and LeBeau snuck out of camp, making their way to the lady's home. Her  
  
name was Maria Eckert, and her father had served in the Franco-Prussian War. She'd never had  
  
any children, which made it easier for Hogan to pull off his ploy. She didn't have much money,  
  
but the American planned to make it look like she had a fortune.  
  
Maria hesitated at first. "I do my best work when nobody notices me," she explained, pointing  
  
out that she still needed to make the quilt. Information was indeed placed in tiny letters, but she  
  
still needed to spread it out over the whole quilt to make sure nobody detected it. "I am 71, it's  
  
not like I can do it in a day."  
  
Hogan explained he understood the arrangement, but that "Klink noticing you is almost sure to  
  
keep others from paying attention. Besides, he'll never study your quilts; you're going to study  
  
his artwork."  
  
The agent raised her eyebrows. "Is he an artist?" came the elderly lady.  
  
"No, but that doesn't stop him." He told a little of his previous work with Klink's "painting"  
  
skills. "He think's he's the next great portrait painter now."  
  
Eckert smiled. "He sounds easy to fool, probably one of the first to fall for the Nazi line about  
  
the so-called master race,' probably makes him feel better about himself."  
  
The American nodded. He'd never totally connected Klink's need to boast about himself with  
  
the kommandant's being a loyal German, but maybe there was something to that. This lady was  
  
obviously quite wise. "Good point, hadn't thought of it like that. Anyway, what happens is,  
  
you're going to come in under your own name, with a will supposedly leaving a big fortune to  
  
you, from a make-believe sister."  
  
Eckert nodded. "Sounds like fun. I wish my siblings were nicer to me," she began rambling,  
  
talking as older people are wont to do. "They just don't pay attention to me anymore, too busy  
  
with their own lives. It makes me wonder sometimes if they suspect something."  
  
"Could be, but if you haven't had anyone follow you around chances are they're not too  
  
suspicious," surmised Hogan.  
  
"I've given so much of my money away to charity now, for all the orphans of the war and  
  
such. Even gave some to that Boys' Town in your country, before the war." The American  
  
smiled. He'd heard lots of good things about Father Flanagan's facility. "Now that there's a war  
  
on, I just use what's left to make my quilts, and help out any way I can."  
  
"You do a fine job, I'm sure," commented LeBeau, repeating it as he'd spoken rather lowly  
  
the first time.  
  
"Thank you. Can you pick me up, though, I don't like to drive. Another agent brought me  
  
this far, I just say I'm staying at a friend's or relative's."  
  
Hogan smiled. "Believe me, when Klink hears about you he'll probably send a limousine and a  
  
full military escort." They laughed for a moment, then left.  
  
The following day, Hogan inspected the notarial seal on the phony will. "Josef von Swindler,  
  
Attorney at Law. Catchy."  
  
"Thank you, Sir," remarked Kinch. "Newkirk's ready to slip it into Klink's mail whenever you  
  
give the word."  
  
"Good, I'll take it in when I go in to..." They turned as Carter announced from the window  
  
that Burkhalter's car had pulled into camp. "Time to get out the radio and put on our favorite  
  
comedy team," the head POW joked.  
  
Burkhalter grumbled as he walked into Klink's office. The kommandant stunned him by  
  
taking his picture. "Klink, what are you doing, and why did you call me here?"  
  
"I needed to get your picture, I am giving you a special treat for your birthday."  
  
"What has taking my picture got to do with your joining the navy?"  
  
Puzzled yet undaunted, Klink pulled out a picture that he'd painted. "Schultz, come in here,"  
  
he commanded. The fat guard obeyed, and Klink instructed him to come look at his latest work.   
  
"I know you are not an art critic, Schultz, but tell me, doesn't this look like you?"  
  
Schultz studied the picture for a moment. He could tell it was a human face, but it had four or  
  
five chins, it had no ears, and its helmet was off kilter. Also, the attempted portrait of Schultz  
  
made him look skinnier, chins notwithstanding. "Mm-hmm. That is the type of picture my wife  
  
would love to hang in our home."  
  
"Above the mantle," Klink hoped.  
  
"On the refrigerator." Turning to the general, Schultz noticed a very amused look. He  
  
normally would try not to joke around with officers, but he knew the general would appreciate  
  
this, if only because it took Klink down a few notches. "Actually, my wife would put it with our  
  
childrens' drawings." The general allowed himself to grin at the joke, which Schultz had hoped  
  
would happen. Klink shook a fist at Schultz, and the men listening in in the barracks all chuckled.  
  
They had not gotten over that round of giggles when Burkhalter remarked "you know, Klink,  
  
Schultz may be on to something. Perhaps you should try finger painting."  
  
Schultz queried out loud "who would want a painting of somebody's fingers."  
  
Even Hogan couldn't resist a fit of giggles before regaining his composure. The others burst  
  
out laughing. "I couldn't write lines like that if I tried," the Englishman remarked, wiping the  
  
tears of mirth from his eyes.  
  
"Okay, let's pipe down," Hogan reminded them, "the general could say something important  
  
after all."  
  
Instead, Burkhalter asked Klink "what happened to Schultz's ears?"  
  
"I knew there was something that looked odd," the kommandant admitted, holding the portrait  
  
up to the light. "I shall have to do something about that. But, anyway..." He noticed the general  
  
leaving. "I shall have your portrait ready in a matter of days."  
  
The general turned. "Good, I will plan not to be there." He left, and Hogan chose to walk  
  
over and annoy Klink next.  
  
As the head POW walked past Schultz, who was once more guarding the door, the German  
  
colonel had gotten his easel out and was fixing the Schultz portrait. "Ah, Hogan, come in, I am  
  
just adding some ears to Schultz."  
  
"I thought he already had ears, Kommandant."  
  
"To his portrait," emphasized Klink before murmuring "though I sometimes wonder if he uses  
  
his real ones."  
  
"He must, he hasn't let an escape happen yet. So, what'd the general want?"  
  
"Actually, I called him here, I wanted him to come so I could get his picture, he will likely be  
  
too busy to sit for a portrait. I did the same thing with Schultz to practice."  
  
Hogan nodded. "That would explain the look on his face; I hope you're not giving the general  
  
that grin." Hogan slipped the envelope out of his pocket and put it on Klink's desk while  
  
exclaiming "a general has to have a certain aggressive demeanor, not a smiling face."  
  
Klink studied the portrait for a second. "Hmmm, you may be right. What would you  
  
suggest?"  
  
Hogan pretended to think a moment. "A bulldog-like scowl, like someone had just swiped a  
  
cigar from his mouth."  
  
"Yes, that is good, that would match him." Although the smile seems to match Schultz all too  
  
well, surmised Klink. Oh, well, he still got the job done, even if he wasn't as aggressive as some  
  
guards would be. As long as there were no escapes, Klink was happy.  
  
Hogan turned to slowly walk out the door. "Anyway, just thought I'd drop by to say hi.'"  
  
He held the door open for a second while Klink studied the official looking envelope and  
  
finally opened it. "Hogan, wait." The American shut the door and walked back toward Klink.   
  
"Hogan...I may be able to finance my own art production now."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yes...an elderly woman, says she is some distant relative of mine. This is from her attorney,  
  
Josef von Swindler, he wishes that I would have someone pick her up so she can talk to me about  
  
a large sum of money that she's inherited. It even shows a copy of the will." Klink showed it to  
  
Hogan. "Imagine, I could buy a place in Palm Springs." He called Schultz in, handed him the  
  
letter, and told him to go to the address to pick up Maria Eckert. Schultz complied, and Klink  
  
remarked "now, I need to set the right mood. Hmmm, perhaps a nice dinner..."  
  
"You're not thinking of going out with her, are you?"  
  
"Hogan are you mad! She is probably old enough to be my mother," chided Klink.  
  
"Who knows, keep her here for a few days and you never know what will develop." He  
  
grinned, and the kommandant's demeanor began to soften, as he remarked "besides, I hear  
  
Burkhalter's sister might be in town soon. Word gets around you're seeing someone..." He let  
  
the thought hang.  
  
As if on cue, Klink nodded slowly. "Yes, yes...so you mean she will think..." He threw up his  
  
arms. "But what will she think of me, if she knows I find a lady in her middle seventies more  
  
attractive than her?"  
  
"Do you care?" Hogan swiped a cigar from Klink's box.  
  
"Well since you put it that way, no." He hesitated a little, than admitted "General Burkhalter  
  
might think it a little odd, though."  
  
Gesturing with the cigar, the American explained his reasoning. "Look, he'll keep you around  
  
as long as you have that perfect record; he knows you're a genius. So you love the bachelor life,  
  
remember he's had his share of flings at your parties."  
  
"True, true. It is just...I am afraid he will think I am looking down on his sister."  
  
"He doesn't have to know who it is, if Gertrude comes by just tell her you've found the  
  
woman of your dreams." Hogan grinned, speaking lowly as if revealing a treasured secret.   
  
"Besides, I bet this woman has more than you think. You could stand to inherit a real fortune."  
  
"Hogan, I am not that desperate for marriage." He confessed "General Burkhalter may be that   
  
desperate to get rid of his sister."  
  
"Well, then, you know the first question to ask. Does she have a brother?" Hogan left to  
  
await his meeting with Maria.  
  
Schultz drove Maria Eckert into camp shortly afterwards. After he helped the elderly lady to  
  
the guest quarters, with Klink carrying the sewing supplies, the German colonel whispered to  
  
Schultz "if anyone asks, make sure they understand I am seeing another woman."  
  
"Another one?" The fat guard thought a second. "Who was the first one?"  
  
"Dumbkopf, that's a ruse in case Burkhatler tries to link me up with his sister again. Now..."   
  
Hogan walked up to them at that moment, anxious to see the lady. "Hogan, why is it that some  
  
days you seem to be everywhere at once?"  
  
"Beats me, Sir. Anyway, I just thought I'd say hello' to your new ladyfriend."  
  
"Hogan, what interest would you have in a lady in her seventies?"  
  
Hogan shrugged slightly. "Just wanted to put in a good word for you, kommandant. Figure  
  
maybe if she gets you enough money maybe you can buy a promotion."  
  
Klink shook a fist. "Is that the way you Americans earn your positions? No wonder you're  
  
losing the war." He quickly added "although I suppose I wouldn't mind."  
  
The American almost told him it was the only way he'd ever get to be a general, but he  
  
decided not to. "Really, Sir, I wanted to tell her about your earlier artwork, too."  
  
"Why, thank you Hogan. All right, you may stay for a minute. Schultz, go with him, you two   
  
are to make sure Hogan is introduced, and that he mentions the paintings befeore leaving right  
  
away." Schultz saluted, escorting the head POW into the guest building.  
  
"Frau Eckert," came the fat man, struggling to bow, "allow me to present the chief Prisoner of  
  
War officer, Colonel Robert Hogan." Hogan doffed his cap. "Colonel Hogan, Madam Maria  
  
Eckert. Colonel Hogan wanted to tell you how wonderful the kommandant's earlier paintings  
  
were." Schultz, of course, didn't believe they were wonderful, but that just meant his tone  
  
matched the almost robotic-at-times "halt, who goes there" he sometimes gave.   
  
Quickly turning to the fat German, Hogan smiled. "Okay, we said it, now you can leave us  
  
alone, Schultz."  
  
"But I thought the kommandant meant..."  
  
Hogan indicated the direction of Klink's office. "You heard what the man said, make sure I  
  
mention the paintings before leaving."  
  
"But why would he..." Shaking his head, determining that Hogan was usually right, he left,  
  
muttering "this is one peculiar war."  
  
Finally alone with the lady, Hogan motioned her away from the door, as speaking louder he  
  
didn't want to be heard. "Madame DeFarge, looks like you got a pretty nice place."  
  
"That sergeant was nice, that is one thing about the Germans, even they know to take care of  
  
us little old ladies." She grinned and winked. "Even though I do sometimes pretend to have more  
  
problems seeing or hearing, just in case."  
  
Hogan took that as a sign he could probably resume near normal speech levels. He was right.   
  
"Anyway, you'll be done knitting in a couple days?"  
  
"Yes, you know, it's activity like this that keeps my mind alert, remembering all the details."   
  
She pointed to her head. "I've got secrets up here few would believe I could remember. But  
  
that's the key to staying alive at my age, is staying active."  
  
The POW nodded. "You've been very lucky. Kommandant Klink might try to woo you, I  
  
don't know." He hummed, trying to imagine what Klink might do. "Anyway, he just blows  
  
smoke, you can ignore him pretty easily."  
  
"I've had the fathers of Gestapo men proposition me to try and get secrets, a simple man like  
  
that won't be a problem."  
  
As Hogan was explaining the plan to Ms. Eckert, Schultz walked into the Kommandant's  
  
outer office to find Gertrude Linkmeyer. "Why, hello, Sergeant," remarked the general's sister,  
  
"where is Colonel Klink?"  
  
Schultz dutifully replied "he is seeing another woman."  
  
Ms. Linkmeyer scowled slightly. "She can have him. Does he think he is going to make me  
  
jealous or something?"  
  
Schultz raised his eyebrows. "Isn't that what you came here for, to see him?"  
  
"No, I came to pick up some things Fraulein Helga, his secretary, had for me."  
  
"Oh." The sentry decided that since Ms. Linkmeyer was not coming to see Klink, he should  
  
retract his earlier statement, not considering that it made him sound even crazier. "Well, in that  
  
case, he is not seeing another woman."  
  
"Make up your mind, is he or isn't he?" At that moment, Klink walked in, allowing her some  
  
hope of ending the confusion. No, she thought to herself, Klink is involved, that could never  
  
happen. "Were you with another woman," she asked quickly.  
  
"Well, yes..." came the perplexed kommandant.  
  
"Then I will ask nothing more; I hope the two of you are happy together." Gertrude left  
  
hurriedly, leaving Klink in a state of puzzlement.  
  
"Schultz, did she ask about me?"  
  
The guard nodded, standing proudly erect. "Ja, and I told her just what you wanted me to tell  
  
her, that you were seeing another woman!" Klink clapped his hands gleefully. Hogan's idea had  
  
worked. "Is there anything else, Herr Kommandant?"  
  
"No, that will be all. It appears that this is my lucky day."  
  
The following day, Hogan snuck in to see Ms. Eckert. "How's it coming?"  
  
"Quite well," she remarked, her legs feeling a little stiff as she and Hogan walked over to her  
  
knitting area. "The Allies will get a lot of useful information out of this."  
  
"Great. I'm still trying to think of a way to get your quilt out, I was hoping to sneak it out in  
  
one of Klink's portraits, but we'll have to wait and see." He thought he noticed a car going past  
  
out the corner of his eye. He noticed Major Hochstetter going past,and quickly evaded view from  
  
behind the window. He got back up after a second, explaining the situation. "Just don't let him  
  
see the quilt, just in case."  
  
The elderly lady waved an arm. "Oh, you younger men are always so worried about me. I will  
  
be fine, there is no way he could read this print. Now go on, he'll wonder more if you are here."   
  
Hogan was impressed as she practically tossed him out. This lady really knows how to handle  
  
herself, he considered. And so self-confident. Maybe he had been worrying too much. Then  
  
again, with his operation, any time he didn't worry could be deadly.  
  
The Gestapo major, meanwhile, was barely in Klink's office door when the German colonel  
  
walked up to him, paintbrush in hand. "Ah, Major Hochstetter, what a pleasure to see you." Not  
  
paying attention to his brush, Klink stroked a light blue line across Hochstetter's chest. As  
  
Hochstetter glared daggers at Klink, the kommandant said "oh, I am so sorry" and grabbed a rag,  
  
intent on wiping the major's uniform clean. However, he simply smeared the paint much further  
  
before Hochstetter angrily grabbed the towel.  
  
"Klink," scowled the Gestapo man, "you are getting paint all over me!"  
  
"Well, I just wanted to clean it up..."  
  
"Never mind, it will be my pleasure to send you a dry cleaning bill." He flung the towel in the  
  
trash can, and stated "I am in need of twenty of your guards to help guard a top secret prisoner,  
  
before he is transported to Berlin."  
  
"But Major," came Klink with as much gumption as he could muster, "my men are needed  
  
desperately here, I run the toughest POW camp in Germany!"  
  
"Obviously, if you are spending your time painting, you must be maintaining a constant vigil,"  
  
came the sarcastic remark.  
  
"Oh, this." He put his brush down finally, and turned a picture that looked vaguely like the  
  
photo of Hitler through which Hogan and his men listened via hidden microphone. "I was hoping  
  
to tell you, Herr Major, I have always wanted to give something back to the Fatherland."  
  
"To give something back implies you have gotten something out of your service, though, and  
  
except for paint smears on your uniform I do not know what that might be."  
  
"But Major, I have served many years in the glorious Luftwaffe. Now, while I cannot earn  
  
much on a colonel's pay, I may soon come into a large sum of money, and I want to be able to  
  
present the Fatherland with a wonderful gift."  
  
"Wonderful, when are you defecting?"  
  
Klink was once again quite confused. "Major, why should you consider my defecting to be a  
  
gift?"  
  
"It is very simple - I would like for our side to win the war. That would be much more likely  
  
were you on the other side."  
  
"I see." Seeing that the major continued to glare at him, Klink relented. "All right, have your  
  
twenty men. But I will want them back as soon as possible, I do not want there to be any  
  
escapes, and I will not let your needs help any of my men to escape!" He called Schultz in and  
  
ordered him to select 20 men to go with the Major.  
  
Baker looked at Hogan as they finished listening in to the conversation. "Think we can get  
  
him? Whoever it is?"  
  
"I'm not sure, but we'll try. Be nice to get the quilt out at the same time. Kinch, radio the  
  
Underground, see if they know who might be held there." He left down the tunnel.  
  
A short time later, Kinch returned with a name. "Code name's Mad Dog,' operated out of  
  
Brussels, made some visits south of here, helped with the resistance in Belgium. He's at the  
  
Hauserhauf." He smiled. "Never could get the room number," came the quip.  
  
Hogan took the clipboard with the information. "Okay, Hochstetter just ordered twenty of  
  
Klink's guards, this must be either one dangerous man, or there's some other stuff, going on."  
  
"Actually, Underground's heard rumors of a top secret munitions plant, they haven't found it  
  
but it's in the area." He paused a second, thinking.  
  
Newkirk was the first to speak, taking the words from Kinch's mouth. "Think e's tryin' to  
  
lay a trap?"  
  
"Hard to say. Ask them to let us know if those men show up at the Hauserhauf or not. That'll  
  
determine what we do."  
  
The Frenchman wanted to know "which is the trap, the munitions plant or the prisoner?"  
  
"When Klink releases guards, they fall under Gestapo command till he gets them back."   
  
Hogan hummed. "They can't really fault him for something happening to the prisoner, they're the  
  
ones who re-stationed them." Although it'd be great to get at that plant too, he told himself. He  
  
wondered if they might be able to pull of f both...no, only Klink's guards know where the  
  
munitions plant is, if that's where they are. When Kinch returned, and informed him the guards  
  
hadn't shown up at the Hauserhauf, the colonel announced he would go out with Newkirk to try  
  
and get the prisoner. He also had a probable room number - 218.  
  
"Sure wish we had a shot at the plant," lamented LeBeau.  
  
"We'll get it someday here." Hogan remarked that just the location would make it easy for  
  
them later.  
  
That night, Hogan and Newkirk snuck out of camp disguised as Gestapo officers. The  
  
entrance to the motel saw several Gestapo from Hammelburg's headquarters guarding it.   
  
However, Hogan soon began to have an uneasy feeling. "Something strike you as rather  
  
strange?"  
  
"What," whispered Newkirk as they rode up to the second floor and walked to the room, "that  
  
you didn't ave to yell at him as much as some of em?"  
  
"Well, we are officers of another city's Gestapo," Hogan remarked, "but still..." Newkirk  
  
remained on the lookout while Hogan rapped on the door, his hand on his gun, just in case. When  
  
a fellow opened it slightly and peeked out, Hogan asked "how are the fish biting in Kiel?"  
  
"How should I know..." stammered the fellow. He hesitantly opened the door for Hogan and  
  
Newkirk, as he glanced down at Hogan's gun. "Wass ist los," he wondered. A lady screamed  
  
and quickly pulled one of the hotel's sheets over her. Hogan noticed a wedding dress hung neatly  
  
in the closet, and knew right away this couple appeared to be on their honeymoon.  
  
"You are not with the Belgian Underground," he asked accusingly. The man stammered  
  
slightly, producing his and his wife's papers. Hogan stoicly turned to Newkirk, making a mental  
  
note to inform the agent who'd given them the information to lay low for a while, lest the Gestapo  
  
suspect he'd leaked something. Handing back the ID, he muttered "So sorry, apparently the  
  
informant gave us false information. You can be sure we will be much more thorough this time."   
  
He cracked his knuckles for effect, then bade the couple good evening. Motioning Newkirk to  
  
watch behind them, they walked past the same guards, a diversion Hogan hadn't planned to make.  
  
"That was fast," noted one of the sentries.  
  
Once more crackling his knuckles, Hogan remarked "some of them crack easily under  
  
pressure. We now will go to the next leg of our journey. And it shall not be so pleasant when we  
  
find our man." The two left, scampering back to Stalag 13.  
  
"What happened," Kinch wondered as the two returned to their regular clothes.  
  
"Gestapo trick, they might suspect our one contact, so get a message to him to lay low for a  
  
while." He turned to Newkirk. "I think the prisoner's at the munitions plant."  
  
"But of course, Holmes, fiendishly clever," chided Newkirk, impersonating Dr. Watson. "So  
  
ow do we get im out of there?"  
  
Hogan grinned. "Simple. Klink and Maria's sister - whose even wealthier than she is - are  
  
going to elope. And the Gestapo will need to guard them so the brightest young artist to come  
  
out of Germany in years isn't kidnaped."  
  
"Madame DeFarge as a sister?" The American nodded. "And who might that be?" Hogan  
  
looked at the Englishman for several seconds, before he finally said "wait a minute, Sir, you don't  
  
mean...you want ME to elope with Klink?"  
  
"Sure. We can't have Maria do it, we need this lady to disappear afterwards." As Hogan  
  
explained his plan, it sounded more bizarre than most Newkirk had heard. But, there was one  
  
thing that appeared to ensure its success. It involved the bumbling Klink.  
  
Part Two  
  
A staff car - driven by Carter, dressed as a German - pulled up to the main gate shortly after  
  
morning roll call the next day. Klink allowed it in after a moment, and out stepped Newkirk, who  
  
went by the name of Eva von Weldham. Hogan had snuck over to the real elderly lady's quarters  
  
earlier, and explained the situation. Hence, Maria stepped out into the compound on cue, and  
  
opened her arms wide. "Eva," she cried.  
  
"Maria, darling," shouted the faux lady as the two embraced. Newkirk sported a simple gray  
  
and black peasant's outfit, similar to Maria's. He also wore a snow white wig. "It's been ages!"  
  
Klink looked upon the greeting with only modest interest as Maria remarked "I thought you'd  
  
been killed in the last air raid on Essen."  
  
"Yes, well, I was this close." He held his thumb and forefinger a millimeter apart. "But with  
  
the Fatherland's glorious medics, I was able to pull through. Are you still quilting?"  
  
"Yes," remarked Maria, "I have been doing so while studying this man's paintings." She  
  
indicated Klink, who grinned, waiting to be introduced as an up and coming artist.  
  
What he got shocked even him. Newkirk took one look at him, gasped, and quickly pulled out  
  
a fan. "Oh, help me, either I'm having a heart attack, or I've just met the man of my dreams."   
  
Don't overdo it, Hogan thought to himself.  
  
He nearly shouted at Klink for his sudden denseness. The kommandant held a hand to his  
  
mouth and said "oh dear, should I get you some water? Would you like me to take you to the  
  
hospital?"  
  
Thankfully, Maria stepped in and said "Klink, she's talking about you."  
  
"Oh." Adopting a grin akin to a 13-year-old who's just gotten his first kiss, Klink said  
  
"well...of course I am flattered...but..." How would he raise the question of age without hurting  
  
the woman's feelings, much less that her wrinkles, while phony, looked genuine enough to him  
  
that he feared she would shrivel up soon. "Well, I mean..."  
  
"He is a bachelor, too, you know that," Maria remarked. "I told you remaining an old maid all  
  
these years could still be worth it."  
  
Newkirk responded "wonderful, with the money I've saved up I could really reward a man  
  
who could just sweep me off my feet." "Eva" began to sway a little, holding a hand up and acting  
  
dizzy. "Oh, dearie me, there's another one of those spells. Oh, how I hope I do not die now, not  
  
when I have a chance to finally marry the man of my dreams."  
  
Klink now acted more intent. "Well...yes Ma'am, that would be wonderful, but..." The age  
  
issue still made him uncomfortable.  
  
Hogan decided to intervene. He whispered to Klink "looks like here's your lucky chance."  
  
Klink pulled him further away from the ladies and said "Hogan, that lady is old enough to be  
  
my mother."  
  
"So, she's still better looking than Burkhalter's sister."  
  
"True. But Schultz is almost better looking than Burkhalter's sister."  
  
"I'm not telling you to marry Schultz." He whispered "see what she thinks of your artwork."  
  
Klink nodded and interrupted the ladies, who were "ooh"ing and "ahh"ing over Klink bald  
  
head. "Look, let us leave aside the talk of my "bald head"..."  
  
"I think baldness makes a man soooo attractive," cooed Newkirk like a schoolgirl, "it is the  
  
first thing I look for in a man. I always say no hair, or be square.'"  
  
Klink adopted his impish grin again. "Really, well...I am glad you find me this way. Would  
  
you, er, care to view my artwork?" They quickly agreed, and Klink showed them both into his  
  
office. Hogan followed, knowing Newkirk probably had things well in hand, but also wanting to  
  
ensure there were no problems. He wanted this to go off as smoothly as possible.  
  
Once inside, Newkirk gasped at the picture of Schultz. "Look at that, it is so exquisite, such  
  
fine detail." He glanced at the ears, having heard the American colonel comment about the lack  
  
of ears. He could tell they had been added on as an after thought. "Look at the way he paints the  
  
ears, Maria, have you ever seen anything like it?"  
  
"No, I haven't. Is Gerhardt, our nephew, still around?"  
  
"Oh, yes, what would he pay, perhaps ten thousand marks?" Klink nearly fainted at Newkirk's  
  
statement before keeping himself upright against his desk. "He has such a knack for finding good,  
  
unknown artistic talent."  
  
Maria walked over to Klink's cabinet and pulled out a picture of his desk which sat beside it.   
  
The one with the blue and brown intermingled, where it was hard to tell what it was, was termed  
  
"exquisite" and "worth a fortune." Maria added "the Underground would certainly get a king's  
  
ransom out of it if anything were to happen to you or Gerhardt, with your money, Eva." Newkirk  
  
agreed.  
  
The prisoner masquerading as a woman finally turned to Klink and admitted "the doctors don't  
  
know how much longer I have, I'd love to pay for these paintings, but they'd just go in my will to  
  
the Fatherland, anyway. You know, if we eloped, we could spend our millions now and I'd know  
  
it was going toward a great young artist."  
  
"M-m-millions," sputtered the kommandant. With millions coming, he reasoned, I could paint  
  
anything. And better yet, I could stand to live with an elderly lady for a little while.  
  
Newkirk thought about saying he meant billions, but knew that was ridiculous. He certainly  
  
didn't want to overdo it. So, he simply asked Klink to make arrangements for a small wedding to  
  
be held the next day at the Hauserhauf.  
  
"W-w-wedding? M-m-millions?" The idea flabbergasted the monocled man. As the two  
  
ladies left, he stood, stunned, until Hogan asked him if he'd rather have Burkhalter's sister.   
  
"Hogan...are you mad? She likes bald men...and she liked me. She called me the man of her  
  
dreams.' And she wants to finance my artwork. And I should be able to live past her, after all,  
  
she's got to be what, around 70?"  
  
"That should be about right."  
  
"Hogan...what would you do? I mean, I've seen the way you look at my secretary, you are  
  
certainly attracted by young ladies. If you had the chance, would you take it?"  
  
The American, of course, wouldn't in a million years. But he knew Klink needed to hear a  
  
"yes." "In a heartbeat, kommandant. For the money, if nothing else. And she's crazy about your  
  
artwork, and she's got that nephew who you heard would see your genius quickly."  
  
"Then that is what I shall do. Schultz?" The sentry had been outside, when Klink called for  
  
him out the window. Appearing promptly, he heard the kommandant request "I am going to need  
  
a few things, I am only having a small wedding...let me see, there will be no large bridal  
  
party...and what do we do about..."  
  
The sentry interrupted. "If I may, herr kommandant, perhaps my little girl, Janssen, could  
  
serve as flower girl, and my sons...."  
  
"Uh...wait." Hogan needed to think for a moment. He didn't want children dragged into this -  
  
even if Newkirk didn't show up, they planned to have some action which, theoretically, could  
  
place them in harm's way. Could he keep them safe and clear from questions? Yes, he decided in  
  
a split second, he could. But, if they weren't brought up, it would be better. "You know, this is  
  
going to be so small, frankly I think the less people the better. And to drive all that way when we  
  
probably won't have time to prepare a huge banquet...I'm sure, if they're like Schultz, his kids  
  
would really only come for the food."  
  
The sentry nodded. "Oh, yes, you cannot believe how they eat."  
  
"Hmmm, well, I am sure LeBeau could throw something together quickly, I can send him  
  
today to get supplies if need be. And there will be a small number of other guests. Schultz, call  
  
your wife, see what she thinks. Anyway, Hogan, I would like you to be my best man. No  
  
offense, Schultz, but Hogan is an officer."  
  
"None taken, Herr Kommandant." I would feel strange, anyway. This is most peculiar - but  
  
what else is new, thought the sergeant.  
  
"I suppose if your children cannot make it, Helga can be a flower girl, and one of the prisoners  
  
can be ring bearer." Klink pondered the situation. "You know, Schultz, this is so new for  
  
me...what attracted you to your wife? And what was it like on your wedding day."  
  
"Well, we both felt it was love at first sight. Then, we found something in common - we both  
  
loved to eat. And, the buffet table at the reception...Mmmm-mmmm!"  
  
"Yes, what about the wedding, is there anything I should know?"  
  
Schultz, however, was too busy reminiscing. "Potato salad, sauerbraten, mmm, the  
  
weinerschnitzel was soooo good, it melted in your mouth! Mmmm, piles and piles of strudel, the  
  
other guests hardly had any we ate so much." Klink waved him off as the guard continued to  
  
dream about his marriage feast, until he seemed to be drooling. "Mmmm, I think Gretchen is  
  
right, we should renew our vows, I would love just to have that kind of feast again. I should call  
  
her right now." He left.  
  
Hogan smiled at Klink. "I don't know how long yours will last, but I think you just made sure  
  
that marriage is good till death do they part."  
  
The next day, Schultz informed the head POW during roll call that his wife and kids would be  
  
coming up to see them. The guard did try to teach his kids to "know, see, and hear nothing"  
  
about the propaganda being taught, and there were several Hitler Youth rallies planned which  
  
they could skip by coming up there and staying Saturday night. It was just as well, Hogan  
  
deduced, he would just tell the faux Gestapo to use blanks. Also, he would ensure there was a  
  
quick place for the children to duck into if things got too wild - which he knew they shouldn't.   
  
Still, it was Hogan's nature to try to plan for every possibility. And one thing he almost  
  
steadfastly refused to do was involve children in his plans.  
  
Hogan walked into Klink's office soon afterward. The kommandant looked quite good in his  
  
dress uniform - well, as good as a balding man of 51 could. "All set for your big day,  
  
Kommandant?"  
  
Klink turned to Hogan with a huge grin. "Yes, Hogan. You know, I couldn't sleep last night,  
  
so I decided to paint." He pulled out a portrait of a lady with a large bridal dress and veil - except  
  
the dress appeared to have a big lump in the back. The people in the pews looked ghastly thin,  
  
and the father giving the bride away had a speck of blue on his face which Klink explained came  
  
from his using the wrong brush. The flower in the man's lapel looked much more like a daisy  
  
than a carnation. "I cannot draw carnations well - I draw something with daisy petals better. I  
  
hope you think it fits."  
  
The American barely stifled giggles. "Kommandant...I'm speechless!" Indeed he was - the  
  
painting looked like a parody.  
  
The German colonel, of course, took Hogan's grin as not one of mirth, but one of admiration.   
  
"I am so glad you approve, I was worried my rushing of this painting would make it appear...well,  
  
unprofessional. But you know, thinking about marriage has brought out an incredible amount of  
  
creativity in me, a sort of...what would you call it, Hogan?"  
  
"Artistic license." Yeah, license to draw any sort of craziness he wanted. This would be a  
  
great image of the way Nazis want to trash Western notions of love with their desire to conquer  
  
and enslave the world, Hogan thought to himself, if it were genuine. He wasn't sure if the fact  
  
that this was an attempt to paint a lovely wedding was better or worse.  
  
Regardless, he soon needed to begin planting in Klink's mind the threats which he'd also  
  
planted in Gestapo minds, with the help of several of their contacts. However, to his surprise, he  
  
didn't have to. Hochstetter came stomping into Klink's office that very moment.  
  
"Hogan, get out, we have something top secret to discuss," spoke the major, as if simply  
  
telling him to would cause it to be done. "Klink, the Gestapo has learned of a wedding involving  
  
you which is to take place at the Hauserhauf, what is the meaning of this?"  
  
The American piped in with "I've heard rumors Klink's found the woman of his dreams."  
  
"Klink, what is this man doing here?"  
  
"The Kommandant is torturing me by making me watch him paint."  
  
Klink wondered "what business does the Gestapo have in my private affairs."  
  
"Shame on you," scolded Hogan, "not even married and already having an affair!"  
  
"WHAT IS THIS MAN DOING HERE?!"  
  
"Major Hochstetter, I can get married to whomever I want! I have found someone I love and  
  
plan on marrying."  
  
The major scowled. "Bah, nobody can marry themselves. I would love to simply leave, but it  
  
appears that the threats on your life also include your lovely bride.'"  
  
"Major, please stop speaking in such a mocking tone, she says I am the man of her dreams,"  
  
insisted Klink.  
  
"So she is prone to nightmares? It appears that she also is prone to having lots of cash, the  
  
Underground, through an anonymous tip, has been learned to be plotting to kidnap this lady friend  
  
of yours and hold her for a million marks in ransom, and also attempt to kill you."  
  
Klink gasped. She was worth quite a bit of money, then. "Well, certainly, Herr Major, we will  
  
take every precaution..."  
  
"Not with your guards you won't." The major ordered Klink to send Hogan out, and the  
  
POW left. He knew one of his men would have the coffeepot plugged in and be listening by now.   
  
Once Hochstetter assured himself that the colonel was walking toward the barracks, he resumed  
  
speaking to Klink. "The guards I ordered placed on the prisoner will need to be doubled for the  
  
wedding. I am pulling our Gestapo guards away to ensure your wife's protection."  
  
"What about using mine, Herr Major?"  
  
"Don't push your luck." He turned to the painting before ordering Klink to round up twenty  
  
men, and harumphed. Then, he saw some of the glaring errors - the lop-sided chandelier, the  
  
lump in the bridal dress, and the daisy in the lapel - and began trying to stifle snickers. He didn't  
  
want to let on that any Gestapo agent could have a sense of humor, even with something as crazy  
  
as this painting. "Order your guards..." he stammered, forcefully pushing back giggles until he  
  
could be clear of people. "I think I need a drink of water." He sped away.  
  
Kinch acquainted Hogan with what Hochstetter ordered. "Okay, good, Kinch, the phony  
  
reputation we planted about Eva seems to be working, that and the threat will have Gestapo  
  
crawling all over...which means all we have to do is find the plant, grab Mad Dog, and have  
  
enough dynamite to blow it up. Madame DeFarge will be done with her quilt, we can have Mad  
  
Dog take the quilt out with him in disguise."  
  
"That's a lot," remarked Sergeant Carter.  
  
"All in a day's work. Okay, here's what we do..."  
  
That morning, LeBeau was snuck from the kitchen into Klink's safe, where he overheard Klink  
  
ordering guards to a location near Hammelburg Road, five miles south of camp. That's where the  
  
plant must be, he pondered. The "cleaning detail" quickly snuck him out again as Maria walked  
  
over to congratulate Klink. She also inspected the latest painting. "Impressive, and who but a  
  
genius would put a daisy in a man's lapel," she wondered aloud, glad Hogan had warned her  
  
beforehand and allowed her to get her laughing done early. She led Klink away to look at the  
  
quilt, and LeBeau reported the information to Hogan once he was out.  
  
"Okay, Newkirk, Carter, you know what to do," came the colonel. It made sense for the  
  
"bride" not to appear before the wedding, anyway. And, he figured Newkirk should be back in  
  
plenty of time.  
  
The Englishman and Carter got into a staff car, and rode out to the plant. They met the guards  
  
who had been there since the day before. "I am General von Nacht, and this is Colonel Krugen,  
  
Heil Hitler," shouted Carter. "Are you from Stalag 13?"  
  
"Jawohl," spoke a guard. He saw that Carter had on a Gestapo uniform, and Newkirk a  
  
Luftwaffe one. There must be something very important going on, he considered.  
  
"Good, I am glad I caught you, there has ben a change in plans. You are to go west two  
  
miles, and wait for instructions; the Gestapo has reason to believe a large group of paratroops will  
  
try to land and sabotage this plant." He handed the man a copy of the phony orders. "The other  
  
twenty that Klink is sending will be enough," continued Carter.  
  
"Jawohl, Herr General," came the saluting man, and soon those guards left, having been  
  
informed earlier Klink was sending twenty extra guards.  
  
They hid out until the Gestapo guards pulled away, on their way to Hammelburg. Then, they  
  
explained the same thing to the twenty newest ones, only they were told to go three miles  
  
southeast and wait. Again with phony orders.  
  
This time, one of the guards called Stalag 13. Kinch, monitoring the switchboard, answered.   
  
"Stalag 13, the toughest POW camp in all of Germany, this is Kommandant Klink, owner of the  
  
only perfect record among any POW camp Kommandant, speaking, Heil Hitler, what may I do for  
  
you?"  
  
"Uh...Kommandant, I am sorry to disturb you on your wedding day," spoke the sentry, "but  
  
we have just been told by..." He checked the credentials again and repeated the names. "They  
  
have told us to go to a point southeast of here, I thought your orders were to remain here until  
  
the Gestapo returned."  
  
"Never mind my orders, the Gestapo say to leave, then leave." Kinch paused. "Or would you  
  
rather be guarding snowmen on the Russian Front?"  
  
"J-jawohl, it is just...the others from the camp left an hour ago."  
  
"I will send them back, do not worry. Heil Hitler." Reluctantly, the guard decided to listen to  
  
Carter and Newkirk. "These guys'll believe anyone in authority," murmured Carter.  
  
"Yeah, now let's hurry," quipped Newkirk, "I don't want be late for me own weddin'."  
  
Carter and Newkirk quickly ordered the two guards in front of the foreman's office away, and  
  
then knocked them out. They set several fuses, poured some gasoline out onto the floor, and set  
  
the timers. Several of the Stalag 13 guards, having returned, inquired what was going on;  
  
however, Carter's screaming got the better of them, and they quickly relented.  
  
"Mad Dog," Newkirk inquired as they drove back to camp, "we're takin' you to Papa Bear's,  
  
but he ain't there right now. E's at a wedding."  
  
"A wedding?" The man was quite puzzled, and finally asked "whose?"  
  
"Mine. Baker'll explain, right now we gotta get you in a tunnel with a change of clothes, and  
  
give ya a quilt to carry to a sub, an' we gotta get me in an old lady's outfit, complete with  
  
wedding dress." A loud explosion could be heard behind them - apparently the plant was no  
  
more. Newkirk instructed Carter that they should walk around in the compound to ensure they  
  
were seen by several guards before going on to the wedding.   
  
Carter and Newkirk had walked around while Kinch took the man's picture and developed the  
  
film It would be a close squeeze, but as long as the wedding continued, the Gestapo would be  
  
going there, instead. They gave Mad Dog white hair, and made him about 85 in his papers.   
  
"Remember to act old," Baker told him as they waited. "You'll be carting around your dearly  
  
departed wife's quilt, the last she made before she died."  
  
"Will I get to see Paper Bear?"  
  
"Not till after the war," came the optimistic Baker. He hoped Hogan and his men would be  
  
able to see numerous agents they'd helped afterwards; they'd certainly had good luck so far.  
  
Newkirk then dressed as Eva, while Kinch and Carter prepared to lead a group of men to a  
  
spot near the hotel, where LeBeau would sneak out of the kitchen and join them. On an  
  
appropriate signal from Hogan - or if the Gestapo began to leave - they were to begin firing.  
  
LeBeau, on the other hand, was worried he would not get the chance to get out. Not because  
  
of the Gestapo, though they were a little edgy, but because of Schultz.  
  
The Schultz family had shown up at about the same time as the patriarch, and they quickly  
  
inquired about food. LeBeau, who had been slaving over a stove for a couple hours, sent out  
  
some hors d'oeuvres and a great big bowl of chicken wings and legs, hoping that would keep the  
  
children happy.  
  
Fifteen minutes later, Schultz popped his head back in carrying a bowl filled with 18 inches of  
  
chicken bones. "Cockroach...could you send out some more?"  
  
"More?!" Schultz nodded. "Do you realize how many chickens DIED to feed you?" The  
  
Frenchman threw up his hands and declared "if the music wasn't ready to start in ten minutes I'd  
  
tell them to just come back here and help themselves!" He mumbled: "How can one man eat like  
  
this? Come to think of it, how could one elephant eat like this?"  
  
"Please, Cockroach, my family does not get to eat like this most of the time, there is a war on,  
  
and we have to ration things..."  
  
LeBeau flung down his apron and handed Schultz a humongous bowl of meatballs which were  
  
supposed to be kept warm until a lovely mushroom sauce could be made for atop it. Now, at  
  
least I won't have to make the sauce, he contemplated. "Here, hopefully this will keep the  
  
elephants happy until the zookeeper comes to feed them." He shoved a handful of napkins into  
  
Schultzes pocket as the music began. "I hope Heinrich doesn't put those on the pillow instead of  
  
the rings."  
  
"Nein, he will know what to put on there. Danke." He left, and LeBeau pushed a large cart in  
  
front of the kitchen door before sneaking out the back way.  
  
He finally got to Kinch and Carter outside the hotel just as Newkrk was entering the building in  
  
his old lady's outfit, complete with wedding dress. "Finally," muttered the mustached man.  
  
"Hey, Louis, we was worried about ya," noted Carter.  
  
"Never will I cook for a Schultz wedding," fumed the frustrated Frenchman. "There would  
  
not be enough food in the world for all of them."  
  
General Burkhalter walked inside, miffed at the Gestapo. He was interrupted by Maria, who  
  
greeted him warmly, hoping to distract him from calling any guards away. "Why, hello," spoke  
  
Burkhalter, trying to sound cordial toward the elderly lady, "you must be the mother of the  
  
bride."  
  
Maria clobbered him with her purse. "How dare you, I happen to be her younger sister!"  
  
"Younger sister?" He spotted Newkirk, in the elderly lady's outfit wearing a wedding dress,  
  
waving at him from the second floor dressing room. Okay, he thought to himself, Klink has lost  
  
it. "Wait one moment, where is the fellow who is in charge of the guards?"  
  
"That would be that sweet little Major Hochstetter. He is over there." She pointed to the man  
  
at the guest book, who scowled.  
  
Burkhalter walked up to him, anxious to use the same term Maria had - hopefully his sarcasm  
  
would make Hochstetter's pride sting as much as the general's face did. "Hello, are you the agent  
  
old ladies refer to as that sweet little major?' I'm glad the Gestapo has finally adopted such a  
  
warm, fuzzy reputation."  
  
"Well, I..." He couldn't figured out how to respond.  
  
The general exploded. "While you have been using your men to aid little old ladies across the  
  
street and guard weddings, our top secret munitions plant was completely destroyed."  
  
"Destroyed...but how, Klink's guards..." He gulped. Could the captured agent be loose?  
  
"Klink's guards were sent to respond to mysterious paratrooper warnings - by a Gestapo  
  
general!"  
  
"I will get my men on it right away." He called several of his henchmen together, and ordered  
  
them to began scanning the area, with several to go toward Stalag 13.  
  
When about five cars pulled up to the front entrance, and over a dozen Gestapo men came out  
  
of the building, Kinch ordered the "attack" to take place. They wanted to give Mad Dog as much  
  
time to get away as possible. After all, he also had the quilt now, and while it wasn't likely the  
  
agents could read it, it did contain vital information about German troop locations.  
  
As huge amounts of machine gun fire sounded around the hotel, Gestapo agents scrambled to  
  
find out where it was coming from. Some of it was phonograph recordings, of course, but some  
  
of it was from Kinch and some of the other men. Kinch, Carter, and several other prisoners  
  
quickly fled back to Stalag 13, knowing they'd tied down some of the Gestapo for quite a while.   
  
LeBeau snuck back into the restaurant through the service entrance to the kitchen.  
  
Inside, everyone in the ballroom took cover. However, Janssen had gone up to grab the  
  
flowers to carry in front of the bride. Not knowing that Maria had grabbed her when the Gestapo  
  
left and ducked into a closet - let alone that the "troops" were firing blanks - Schultz grabbed  
  
his rifle and raced outside, firing randomly and with no sense of aim whatsoever.  
  
"Sergeant," hollered Hochstetter, "we have things under control."  
  
"I will not let anything happen to my children!" He raced and fired wildly into the streets as  
  
the records kept playing machine gun fire.  
  
Newkirk, meanwhile, wanted to be accounted for, so he hurriedly ran downstairs, approached  
  
Klink in his bridal outfit, and shrieked while sobbing "oh, I'm so sorry, my wedding jinx is  
  
continuing. Five potential husband have died, every other wedding I've been in, the couple has  
  
either split apart or one spouse has died within two weeks. Oh, you poor man, I should have  
  
known. I cannot marry you, I love you too much to let something like that happen!" Newkirk  
  
dashed upstairs, put on a phony Gestapo outfit, and commandeered a car, taking it to the woods  
  
near Stalag 13, where he got out, thanked the driver, and went back in the tunnel.  
  
Klink stood, stunned, as Newkirk fled. Had he wanted to get married? He was all confused  
  
now. Maria, meanwhile, jogged back with Janssen, holding the girl's hand until she was safely  
  
with her mother and brothers. Burkhalter marveled at her courage. It seemed impossible to him  
  
for a woman of Maria's age to be that courageous. Then, he felt his cheek again. "Yes, a feisty  
  
lady like that would run through machine gun fire," he muttered.  
  
Schultz went back inside after several moments, at which time Maria told him Janssen was safe  
  
and back in the ballroom/chapel. The guard ran and embraced the girl and then his wife, speaking  
  
as they cuddled over the half-empty bowl of meatballs. "What a fabulous meal. Too bad it has to  
  
go to waste."  
  
"It does not have to, Hans." The couple kissed. "You know we do not have to wait until  
  
after the war to renew those vows."  
  
"And we could eat, as Colonel Hogan says, until the cows come home." They kissed again.  
  
"And I am sure the minister wants to marry someone today."  
  
Both were licking their chops as their children grinned around them. "Let's do it." Schultz  
  
instructed his boys to line up to be "best men," while their girl went to grab the flowers and lead  
  
Gretchen down the aisle.  
  
Maria chose this time to leave - her work was done there. She sidled up to Hogan, thanking  
  
him.  
  
"No problem. Your information will really be helpful." He grinned. "This got a little crazier  
  
than we first planned, I know, but that happens around here at times."  
  
"I have lived for many years, Colonel Hogan. I have seen lots of bizarre things. Even my  
  
quilts seem like a very unusual method at times."  
  
"Every little bit helps the war effort." Hogan smiled, considering how many agents he'd  
  
embraced over the years. He didn't quite feel like doing that, but he did give her a peck on the  
  
cheek. "You did very well."  
  
"There is a note for Klink, he will find it when he returns."  
  
Hogan and Maria noticed Gretchen walking down the aisle. "I better get to him, he's probably  
  
feeling pretty down now."  
  
"Take good care of him, with men like that the Nazis won't be long for this world." She bade  
  
him adieu, and Hogan walked down to sit beside Klink.  
  
As Heinrich stood with the rings, and the Schultzes repeated their vows, Klink muttered "that  
  
could have been me up there. Hogan...I was this close. And now...I do not know what I want."  
  
"Don't sweat it, Kommandant, you'll get there someday." Hans was placing a ring on  
  
Gretchen's finger, the couple already looking forward to the post wedding spread. "There's still  
  
Burkhatler's sister."  
  
"Hogan, I would not want her even if she did have millions of dollars." The men stood and  
  
applauded as the couple embraced. "And what about you, perhaps I should look into finding you  
  
a wife. You know, after we win the war, we will no longer be enemies, and I'm sure there are  
  
lots of pretty ladies around."  
  
Hogan shook his head vehemently. "No thanks, I'd marry Burkhalter's sister before we'd let  
  
you win the war."  
  
Afterward  
  
The following day, the men fell out for roll call to discover Corporal Langenscheidt counting  
  
them. Klink quickly ordered Hogan into his office. "Hey, Kommandant," Hogan inquired after  
  
arriving, "where's Schultz?"  
  
"Still in town, probably sleeping till noon." He harumphed. "He asked for an advance on his  
  
next 24-hour pass, so I gave him one." He sighed. "I guess I'm just an old softie, when his little  
  
ones started begging me to I did." He added "General Burkhalter felt it prudent anyway, given  
  
that he'd likely be up for such a pass into town after so bravely fighting off those so-called  
  
attackers. Anyway, that is not why I called you in here. About those attacks..."  
  
"Figures, LeBeau didn't come back till around one in the morning, he said he'd been up  
  
cooking the whole time. General was probably grateful to Schultz," Hogan said, trying to  
  
confuse Klink by quickly shifting subjects. "Schultz might have saved the general's life." Klink  
  
nodded slightly, a little confused.. "Say, today was his birthday, wasn't it?"  
  
Klink looked directly at Hogan. "Stop changing the subject! Now..."  
  
"I didn't, he's right behind you." The general had followed Hogan into the office, and asked  
  
to see the "present" Klink was so excited to give him.  
  
"Ah, yes, General Burkhalter," came the warm greeting, "here it is!" He pulled out a portrait  
  
which looked somewhat like the general - or at least the face did. To Klink's surprise, the  
  
general's face turned purple right away.  
  
The American rubbed his chin. "You know, that pose looks familiar, for some reason."  
  
"That's because it is," shouted the general. "It is the same pose as the portrait of a very  
  
famous person!"  
  
Klink beamed with pride until the split second after he asked "really? Who?"  
  
"Winston Churchill!" Burkhalter took the picture and put his knee threw it, then ripped the  
  
canvas apart. "I will not have any picture that looks like that man in my house, even if it is of  
  
me!" He left in a huff, forgetting to tell Klink of their lack of success in finding any saboteurs, any  
  
witnesses, or any fugitive. Hogan knew, of course, that the man and quilt had arrived in London.  
  
Klink looked down at his "masterpiece," then back up at Hogan. "Can you believe that?"  
  
"Talk about ingratitude." Hogan hoped he had forgotten about the phony attack. When he  
  
hadn't Hogan said "oh, come now, kommandant, that's the oldest trick in the book, you should  
  
know that."  
  
"What is?"  
  
"Gestapo wants to get you," explained Hogan, "they see a golden opportunity. So instead of  
  
the Underground attacking, it's really their own men doing the attacking."  
  
"Yes, yes, that could be...that would explain why there was a Gestapo man telling my guards  
  
to leave that prisoner." Hogan swiped a cigar while Klink mused aloud. "Although why now?"  
  
"They see you about to be a double success, not just a military genius but an artistic one, too.   
  
Now, if you were to hold off on painting any more until after the war, things would die down  
  
some."  
  
Klink sighed. "Perhaps you are right, Hogan. But, my painting did seem to attract women,  
  
albeit older ones. You don't think that it would attract younger ones, too?"  
  
"No, Kommandant, not the kind you want. You want someone who loves you, not just your  
  
paintings."  
  
"Yes, yes," encouraged the German.  
  
"Thing is, your military genius scares some women, they're afraid you'll just sit around with  
  
your buddies telling war stories all the time."  
  
That made sense to Klink. "Well, then what do you suggest?"  
  
"Take up a hobby they'd like." He pretended to have just thought of something. "Maria left  
  
some thread here, didn't she? That would be good, start making quilts."  
  
"Hogan, your ideas are ridiculous, I am not going to be a seamstress," proclaimed Klink.  
  
As Hogan began to leave, he suggested "I'd think about it, kommandant, when the Allies win  
  
and you're thrown out in the cold, you're gong to need a nice warm quilt." Klink shook his fist at  
  
Hogan as he left. 


End file.
